When the Hunted Becomes the Hunter
by watertiger21
Summary: Becca never believed in monsters… until she became a target during one of Sam and Dean's hunts. With her perception of the world forever changed, Becca gradually enters the hunter lifestyle. Every now and then, she again crosses paths with the brothers. But this is her life. Rated M for the romance. :)
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:** Becca never believed in monsters… until she became a target during one of Sam and Dean's hunts. With her perception of the world forever changed, Becca gradually enters the hunter lifestyle. Every now and then, she again crosses paths with the brothers. But this is the story of her life.

 **Author Notes:** This story will follow the tv show and will not mess with the existing storyline. Read it as an extra, untold story that was cut out from the show, with events occurring between episodes. However, I may bend time slightly… for example, if originally only a month passed between two episodes, I might extend it into two months so there will be enough time for my story's events to play out.

Everything begins somewhere after Season Two's third episode "Bloodlust" (so John has made his deal with Azazael and the Impala finally gets fixed up after the crash) but before Season Two's fifth episode "Simon Said" (when things start to get a bit crazy with Sam's abilities).

Happy reading!

CHAPTER ONE

Dean opened his eyes and sighed, not yet ready to wake up and face another drudgingly awful day. The digital clock sitting on the tv stand across the hotel room said 2:37am, but sunlight peeked through the half-drawn curtains, forming random shadowy patterns on the ceiling.

' _Damn this crappy hotel!_ ' he thought. Refusing to leave the shabby bed with its worn sheets and squished pillows, Dean flailed his arm out at the nightstand and felt around for his phone. His fingers finally tightened around it and with a click of a button, it showed 7:22am.

Sam was probably off at some diner in town, meticulously picking his way through news articles in search of a case. The world had been strangely quiet the past few weeks, with little to no activity worthy of piquing a hunter's interest. Like the calm before a storm. A heavy, stuffy, drives-one's-mind-slowly-insane kind of calm. But there was no doubt a storm was brewing… That hellish yellow-eyed demon was out there somewhere, planning his next move, and all Sam and Dean could do was wait for his next appearance.

' _Damn it all!'_ Dean climbed out of the bed and shuffled to the bathroom. Without Sam there, he didn't have to worry about putting on a fake show of perseverance and a we're-gonna-tough-this-out-together attitude. He splashed his face at the sink and stared at himself somberly in the mirror. Dad was dead. He'd probably made a deal with that son-of-a-bitch demon to save Dean's life, cursing Dean to live with the heavy burden forever. He didn't know how much longer he could handle it.

The sound of the room's door opening and closing snapped Dean out of his brooding thoughts and he straightened his shoulders before leaving the bathroom to meet his brother.

"Here, I brought breakfast." Sam plopped a plastic bag of cheap convenience store foods onto the wobbly hotel room table, pulled out his laptop, and sat down. "I got you one of those fruit pie snacks – cherry flavor – and picked out as many of the doughnuts I could find that looked edible."

"Aw, no apple?!"

"No. They didn't have any. Just cherry."

"Dude, we have _got_ to get outta this town!" Dean said as he picked through all the food. "Crappy hotels, no _real_ pie, and no bars! I'm not spending another day here. Please tell me you got somethin."

"Actually, yes." Sam turned his laptop around to face Dean. "Three women have disappeared in the same town in the past three months. It seems all of them disappeared while they were jogging along a stretch of bike trail that connects the parks and natural areas in the city. No bodies, no sign of them whatsoever. They're all just gone."

"Sounds like nothing special. Why should we be interested?"

"They each disappeared on nights of the full moon."

"You thinkin' werewolf?"

"I dunno, maybe."

"With the lack of gore? If it were a werewolf, there'd be a trail of bodies, not missing persons."

"Still worth looking into… especially cause it'll get us out of this place."

Dean threw his hands up in the air. "Nuff said! Let's get outta this hell hole!"

* * *

HiiiIIIIIssssSSSSSssssspppPPp!

Boiling water splashed over the sides of the pot on the stove, quickly steaming up the small apartment's kitchen like a sauna.

"Shit!" Becca yelled aloud to herself as she hopped, only half dressed, into the kitchen and turned the stove's heat off. She grabbed the boiling pot of water while balancing on one foot… She had a stack of books tucked under her arm and she was trying unsuccessfully to pull her running shorts up her legs. "Today, of _all_ days, was supposed to be easy! Get off work early, make a simple lunch, read a little, go out for a jog. Oh simple my ass! Why can't one day go right? One. Single. Day!"

Once dressed, she dumped her batch of overcooked spaghetti into a pasta strainer, grabbed a set of keys, forced her feet into a pair of shoes she refused to take the time to untie, then headed for her front door. What she needed more than anything right now was a long afternoon run, during which all she had to worry about was putting one foot in front of the other. No angry customers at work, no unmanageable car payments, and no broken plumbing systems to worry about… just simple running.

A jog through the nearby Riverbend Ponds Natural Area always made her feel better. In fact, she had moved into her current apartment because its front door opened right up onto the bike trail that led through it. The small section of woods, a grassy field blooming with wildflowers, and a tiny creek full of skittish minnows and crayfish made the place a quiet paradise nestled in the middle of town. It was the perfect spot for Becca to escape the crazy hectic atmosphere of a bustling city. Plus, she really needed to get some sunlight; she'd been cooped up inside for far too long.

As she opened her front door, Becca grabbed her hair and began bunching it up into a pony tail, but the hairband broke and snapped painfully against her hand and ricocheted across the room.

"Ow! Gosh flippin' stupid piece of crap!" She stepped over the threshold and walked straight into the man standing on her doorstep, his arm outstretched as if he had been about to knock on her door. "What the fu – Oh! I'm so sorry! I had no idea you were standing there!" She eyed the guy suspiciously, and peered around at a second, very tall man standing behind the first. "Look, I'm sorry, but I'm not interested in whatever it is you're trying to sell. Ha, I don't have any money anyway, so you're wasting your time! Oh, unless you're here for a religious or political spiel, in which case I kindly decline to listen to your speech. Ah, sorry, that's impolite of me… Erm, just having a bad day. I'm about to leave, so, er–"

"Ma'am!" The really tall dude stuck his hand out to stop Becca's blabbering. "Wait, we're not here to sell you anything. We apologize for the confusion and for intruding, but we were hoping to ask you a few questions. We're from the FBI." Both men pulled out badges and ID's for her to look at.

"Oh, I guess … Is there some kind of trouble? Are you sure we can't do this some other time?" Becca asked hopefully.

"We'd really like to talk with you now. It's procedure."

Becca slumped her shoulders in defeat, stepped aside, and swept her arm in towards the living room to indicate they should go inside. This was turning into one hell of a day.

* * *

Dean glanced around the small living room. It was tidy, uncluttered ... and this chick was definitely awesome for having such a huge tv. He leaned back into the couch and twiddled his fingers impatiently. Sam was sitting next to him, hands in his lap, while they waited for the gal to return with… whatever it was she was getting.

"Just one more sec!" she shouted from the kitchen. He heard dishes clanking together and a fridge door being slammed shut.

Dean sighed and dropped his head back against the couch cushions. They'd already interviewed four people today and had found no leads. The last two hours had been particularly awful. They'd spent an hour talking with an old woman surrounded by cats and another hour with a guy worried about the FBI finding his marijuana.

He glanced to his right at the small terrarium sitting on the end table beside the couch. There was some sort of flowering plant in there and he started lifting the terrarium's lid so he could smell one of the pink blooms. Cause why the hell not?

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," the woman said as she walked into the room carrying an armful of cups and drinks. Dean jumped as if caught doing something he should be guilty for and the terrarium lid clinked shut. "There's a black widow spider in there."

Dean looked at Sam and silently mouthed "WTF?!" He slid across the couch and moved closer to Sam, away from the creepy spider cage.

"Not that she'd hurt you. Black widows are actually gentle creatures that are more afraid of you than you are of them. They almost never bite… they'd rather run away and hide." The woman began setting cups down on the coffee table in front of them.

"You know, there are actually scientific studies in which people spent their time trying to get one to bite, and the researchers basically came to the conclusion that you'd have to sit down and practically pull off the spiders' legs before it'd turn around and bite you. Or you'd have to threaten her egg sac full of babies, if she has one."

The crazy spider lady placed a carton of orange juice, two bottles of yellow Gatorade, and a six-pack of beer alongside the cups. Then she plopped down on the comfy-looking recliner chair across from them. "I named her Old Lady Mac," she said, smiling inwardly to herself as if there was a joke. "Anyway, sorry about the lack of drink choices I have for you. I don't even know when I last went to the grocery store. Can you even have beer while you're on duty? I've got water if you want that instead."

Dean just stared and gaped, but Sam jumped right in. "No thanks, this Gatorade will be fine for me. Old Lady Mac, eh? As in _L. mactans_ , the scientific name for black widows?"

The woman beamed. "Yup! You're the first person who's ever gotten that."

Dean turned and stared at Sam with a look that said, _Really dude? Really?_ Sam shrugged his shoulders. He'd learned a bit about spiders a few months ago while researching a case in which they hunted an Unktomi, or a Native American spider creature known for its evil trickery.

"So, what's all this about?" she asked.

"Well ma'am, er –" Sam faltered. They still hadn't gotten her name.

"Oh! Becca. I'm Becca! Nice to meet you."

"Likewise. We're here to ask you a few questions about the recent missing persons cases that have developed over the last few months. All three women disappeared right in this area and we just want to know if you've seen or experienced anything strange lately."

"No, nothing weird. It's a super depressing situation though. Their families must feel so awful," Becca said with genuine empathy and sorrow. She looked down at her hands in her lap.

"Have you heard any strange noises at night? Felt any cold spots or …."

Sam's voice droned on with questions and Dean began to tune some of it out. Not that he wasn't paying attention! But he could tell already the young woman didn't have any interesting leads for them. Yup. Definitely no interesting leads, though sheherself was _definitely_ interesting.

This Becca gal was actually quite attractive. She had a cute face with naturally long eyelashes, green eyes, and wavy shoulder-length brown hair that framed her face. She was small (about 5'4") but seemed strong and had very nice, relatively-long, athletic legs.

Dean reached for his drink glass and took a sip of orange juice. His mind wandered and he imagined himself easily picking her small body up in his arms and tossing her into a bed, those legs wrapping around him… He lost concentration on what he was doing and began choking on his drink, coughing and spluttering.

"Ech! Um, sorry!" Cough, cough. "I, uh..." Ahem, clearing his throat. "It just went down the wrong pipe." Dean fought to gain control of his voice as his coughing cleared the last bit of orange juice from his throat. Both Sam and Becca stared at him, a concerned look on each of their faces.

"Are you okay?" Becca asked. Dean waved his hand in an _I'm-okay_ gesture.

"Just as well," Sam said. "I think we're done. Thank you very much for your time Becca. Here's our card in case you think of anything else. Or if you notice something out of the ordinary, don't hesitate to contact us. Oh, and stay indoors tonight. Full moons make people go crazy." Everyone stood up to leave and Dean spared one last nervous glance at the spider terrarium as they left the living room.

"Thanks." Becca led them to the front door.

As Dean followed Sam through the doorway and onto the patio, he turned around and blurted, "Okay, so you say they're nice… But still, why keep a potentially dangerous spider? What's the point?" He surprised himself by asking the question. Why should he care? And yet… he was still curious.

Becca smiled sheepishly. "Well, you only have to feed them once a month. Easiest pet ever! But I guess I like that they're so laid-back… until something seriously threatens them or their family. Then they hulk out on whatever is dumb enough to bother them."

Dean nodded. Now _that_ was something he could relate to.


	2. Chapter 2

**Warning:** This chapter contains an incredibly brief _mention_ of attempted rape.

CHAPTER TWO

"Well, we got a whole lot of nothin! An entire day spent talking and interviewing and we didn't get a single lead." Dean plopped down onto the hotel bed, arms and legs spread all over. He was looking forward to a night of tv and a juicy burger.

Sam shook his head. "Uh, Dean? It's a full moon tonight. Remember the M.O.? All the women went missing during evenings with a full moon. We need to be out there looking for whatever it is we're hunting."

"Yeah, right." Dean heaved himself up. "Let's at least go through a drive-thru first."

* * *

Becca was _finally_ ready to go jogging. After the FBI guys left, she had stayed home to clean up the mess. The half-full drinking cups the guys had left on her coffee table, not to mention the overcooked spaghetti fiasco, needed to be straightened up. One thing she'd learned soon after moving into her apartment bordering the natural area: no food could be left out for long because it would attract all sorts of buggy pests from the woods.

The super tall FBI guy's warning sat somewhere in the back of her mind… _Stay indoors tonight. Full moons make people go crazy_. But she felt so cooped up and needed to burn off some energy! Besides, she couldn't let fear run her life. It wasn't dark out yet, and the probability of something happening was very low. Despite the three disappearances over the last few months, this town had the lowest crime rates in the state! She'd be fine.

Even so, Becca made sure to grab something she could use in the event she needed to protect herself. She dug through a drawer full of junk (all of which had no other place it belonged, which is why it was shoved in a junk drawer) and pulled out a random tent stake.

 _Well crap. This would've been helpful last year when I went camping!_ Becca thought to herself. If she'd had this one extra iron tent stake during that trip, her rain cover wouldn't have blown off and she wouldn't have spent the night in a sopping wet sleeping bag. Oh well.

She shoved the tent stake into the pocket of her running shorts and took off out the door. Time for that nice relaxing jog she'd been looking forward to all day!

* * *

Sam and Dean were walking along the bike trail in the grassy field section of the Riverbend Ponds Natural Area when they heard the scream.

"It came from the woods!" Dean yelled. They both sprinted towards the trees, each pulling a gun and preparing to fight a monster without any idea of what it would be.

* * *

Becca screamed again. Something BIG had attacked her from behind and was pushing her face-first into the ground. She could hardly move or struggle because whatever it was felt like it weighed a ton! A large hand appeared in front of her face and tried to hold her mouth shut to keep her from screaming again. It was clammy, wet, and tasted disgusting. She tried to bite it but the thing had a good grip and she couldn't get her lips to move.

Becca's arms were pinned to her sides but she worked her hand towards her pocket as she struggled beneath her attacker. Almost there…

Perfect! She grabbed the tent stake from her pocket and moved her arm backwards to try and stab at her attacker. She couldn't put much strength into the movement due to the weird angle, but the stake still managed to make contact with something and scrape across it.

There was a strange snarling and hissing sound, and the weight holding Becca down went away. She scrambled onto her feet and turned around. Nothing was there.

There was a rustling noise in the brush behind her and Becca whirled around to face it. She momentarily froze once she laid eyes on her attacker.

It was HUGE. A man – if it could even be called that – wearing only scraggly shorts stood close to seven feet tall in front of her. His ears were long and pointed upwards, and his eyes! Becca trembled and she tried to break her gaze away from those staring, dull-red eyes. The man-thing had super muscular arms and a strong bulky torso covered in chest hair. But its legs…

 _Oh God! Its legs!_ Becca thought. They weren't human… Its feet were disfigured and there were extra joints in addition to its knees which made them look weird and twisted. Dense red-brown hair smothered everything.

 _What the hell am I gonna do?!_

The monster moved towards Becca. It was then she noticed the hissing noise she'd heard earlier was actually coming from a cut on its arm, a cut she guessed was made by attacking it with her tent stake. She held the stake out in front of her protectively and tried to steady herself. Her hands were shaking almost uncontrollably.

Suddenly, a loud POP! A gunshot.

Becca stared at the monster man-thing as it twisted and scratched frantically at its chest. A small amount of blood dripped down its torso, but not much. The creature had been shot but was acting like the wound was itchy and slightly annoying rather than painful or life-threatening.

She still didn't move. The two FBI guys who'd interviewed her earlier that day ran up behind her. They were talking – no, more like yelling – at her but she didn't hear anything. She was in shock.

The really tall FBI man grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. Becca looked up and focused on his face, and her ability to concentrate slowly came back.

"Becca, Becca! Do you hear me? You need to run. You need to get out of here!"

She nodded. But run where? The monster thing was between them and her apartment. Becca shook her head. She was thinking too much and too hard. One last glance at the monster, then she turned and ran.

* * *

Becca ended up in a parking lot at the end of the bike trail to the natural area. She stopped running and stood there, sudden waves of exhaustion sweeping over her. It would only get worse as the adrenaline worked itself out of her system.

There was one empty car in the parking lot: a nice-looking black car that said _Chevrolet_ on the front. She didn't know anything about cars, but it looked like something collectors would probably like. There was a picnic table in front of it, so she stumbled over and sat down on the bench of the table. Resting her head in her arms, she let her mind go blank and just sat.

* * *

The monster hadn't hung around once Sam and Dean had showed up. Dean was able to get one more shot fired at it before it turned and ran into the trees. The brothers chased after it but found nothing. It had disappeared.

Now they walked back to the parking lot and the Impala.

"What the hell was that thing?!"

"I dunno Dean. Nothing I've seen before."

"Our iron shots didn't have any affect. Just pissed it off."

Sam shook his head in agreement. They reached the end of the bike path and were getting close to their car.

"Hey Dean, is that…? Is that Becca?" Sure enough, the young woman was slumped over a picnic table in front of the Impala.

"Crap," Dean said. They rushed over to her but slowed their pace as they got closer to avoid spooking her. "Becca? Can you hear me?" Dean helped her sit up but had to maintain his grip on her shoulders to keep her from slumping back down.

She was mostly unresponsive. Her lashes fluttered but she didn't open her eyes and her face was flushed and her body was limp. She only mumbled a few words. "Monster… not safe…"

Dean looked up at Sam. "What's wrong with her?"

"I dunno. Let's get her to the hotel." Dean scooped Becca up in his arms and slid her into the Impala's back seat.

* * *

Becca slowly began to wake up. Her eyes were insanely heavy, her mind was fuzzy, and she couldn't get her body to move quite right. She almost felt… extremely hungover. She heard two mens' voices somewhere nearby but she couldn't make herself concentrate.

She was in an unfamiliar bed. Definitely not hers. The pillow covers were too scratchy and the sheets created little bits of static electricity whenever she moved. Becca blinked her eyes open and tried to focus on her surroundings.

A hotel room. She was in a hotel room. Two beds, a table with two chairs, a small grungy loveseat, a nightstand with a lamp, and horribly gaudy wall paper. She could see all the usual stuff provided in a cheap crappy hotel.

The two guys from the day before were there. The tall one was sitting at the table using a laptop and the other was standing in the bathroom doorway, a toothbrush hanging in his mouth. Becca stared. He wasn't wearing anything except a towel wrapped around his waist, his wet skin and the humid air steaming out from the bathroom a clear indication he'd just finished a shower.

They were talking to each other but Becca hadn't been paying attention. Not until the half-naked dude addressed her directly. "Well good morning sunshine! Glad to see you're up!" He said with a smirky, confident smile. Becca quickly averted her gaze and her cheeks flushed; she'd been blatantly staring at him. He winked at her as he retreated into the bathroom and shut the door.

The other guy stood up and came over to her bedside, his facial expression full of concern. "How are you feeling? You slept all night. I promise you're safe here."

"Yuuuur not FBI dudes, rrrrrr you?" Becca swallowed. Her throat was scratchy and her mouth felt like it was full of cotton. It was difficult for her to talk and she had to repeatedly blink her eyes in order to keep them open.

"No," he said seriously. "My name's Sam, that was my brother Dean. We're here to put an end to that _thing_ that attacked you last night." He handed Becca a glass of water from the nightstand and she took it gratefully, chugging the water until the cup was empty.

"What was it?" She was starting to concentrate a bit better now. Her mind was less fuzzy and the world was becoming clearer.

"A satyr."

Becca stared at Sam for a moment, thinking. She never would have believed something like this was possible, but the events of the night before flashed clearly through her mind. "Like the little half-goat dude in the Disney Hercules movie? I thought those things just liked to get drunk and party a lot."

"That's what most folklore says about them, but it's not the entire story. Today's popular concept of satyrs is actually a blend of the Greeks' original stories about satyrs mixed with the Romans' folklore on fauns. They're practically considered the same thing today, but they're actually not." Sam walked over to the table, grabbed his laptop and one of the flimsy chairs, and brought them back to her beside. He sat down and turned the computer screen towards her. Becca shivered and pulled the bed covers more tightly around herself as she stared at a photo of an ancient depiction of the monster.

"Original Greek mythology says satyrs weren't goat-like at all. Just huge, hairy, humanoid men. All the tales describe them as lustful creatures who surround themselves with human women… There isn't a single reference to there being female satyrs anywhere in the folklore. Um…" Sam paused, trying to figure out how to say the next part gently to avoid freaking Becca out. "There are stories of satyrs attacking women in sexual frustration…"

"You're saying that _thing_ , that _monster_ , was trying to rape me?!" Becca could feel the storm of anxiety brewing in her stomach, ready to bubble forth at any moment. She swallowed and counted to ten in her head, forcing herself to relax her breathing. Having a break down and freaking out wouldn't help her. There was time for that later.

"Well… yes." Sam watched her face carefully, not sure what reaction to expect.

"I, uh, okay. Okay. Yeah," was all she said. She was taking deep breaths in a visible effort to keep from hyperventilating.

"I know it'll be hard for you, but can you tell me what happened? Every detail you can remember?"

Becca was about to say something, but the bathroom door opened and Dean walked out, fully clothed this time. She and Sam both started at him. "Whoa," Dean said, holding both his hands up. "Don't let me interrupt." He grabbed the last chair from the table and placed it backwards at the end of the bed. He sat down by straddling the back of the chair in the typical macho cool-guy fashion.

Becca shook her head. _The guy may be sexy as hell_ , she thought as she pushed the image of him wearing a towel while standing in the bathroom doorway out of her mind, _but he seems like he has an ego problem_.

"'Right," she started. "I was just jogging through the trees. Nothing out of the ordinary, just an evening run, you know?" The brothers nodded encouragingly. "There was a weird thump sound and then I was lying face-first on the ground, with the thing on top of me. It all happened so fast… I don't know. It tried to keep me from screaming with its hand over my mouth – which was disgusting by the way – but I had a tent stake with me … don't ask, I know it's completely random. I managed to scrape the stake across its arm and it let go of me. The cut was steaming or hissing or something and he was super pissed about it. Then you guys showed up."

Both brothers spoke at once.

"What's the tent stake made out of?"

"His hand was disgusting how?"

"Um…" Becca looked back and forth between them, not sure where to start. She answered Sam first. "His hand was clammy. Just sweaty and disgusting. Tasted bitter and sour."

Sam nodded. "I think he drugged you."

"What?!"

Sam shrugged. "That's why you were so out-of-it when we showed up."

"Yeah, like a walking zombie!" Dean added.

Sam continued. "Satyr folklore describes them as being heavily involved with wine. They love it and share it with women and so-on and so-forth. But I think details may have gotten lost in the translation of the stories. I don't think it's really wine. I think the satyr has some sort of ability to secrete a liquid substance – you said bitter and sour, right? – that makes his victims … well, helpless and unable to fight back."

Becca felt like throwing up. The idea that she had been drugged with some evil monster's body fluid secretion was absolutely disgusting. Yeah, she definitely felt sick. "I," she stuttered. "I think I need a moment." She fled from the bed and into the bathroom, slammed the door shut and rushed to the toilet. She gagged for a moment but nothing else happened. She sat on the floor and rested her head against the cool porcelain on the side of the bathtub. This was definitely not one her more glamorous moments. Becca grinned sarcastically to herself despite the condition she was currently in. She really _did_ feel hungover. Was it a result of the shock of finding herself living in a monster-filled world or an after-effect of that dumb creature's "drugs?" She leaned over the toilet and gagged again. Yeah, best not to think about that stuff anymore.

There was a small knock on the door. "You okay in there?" Dean's muffled voice asked.

She nodded, but realized after a moment that he obviously couldn't see it. "Yes. Yeah, I'm okay. I'm gonna clean up." Becca stood up and grimaced as she glanced in the mirror. Her tank top and running shorts were covered in dirt, and there was a small tear at the bottom of her shirt. She still had her grungy socks on, there was a bit of dried mud smeared on her cheek, and her hair looked a bit like a rat's nest. Her bra was even slightly askew. _Yeah,_ she thought again. _Definitely not a glamorous moment._ She peeled everything off and jumped in the shower.

Apparently neither of the guys used hair conditioner, but she didn't care. She used whichever shampoo and soap were lying around the rim of the bathtub and cleaned herself up. She felt _loads_ better already. It's a miracle how much better a shower can make you feel, no matter the occasion.

Once toweled off, she used a cloth and attempted to wipe all the dirt from her clothes before she had to put them back on. There was another knock on the door, this time it was Sam's voice she heard. "Hey, uh, we have some spare clothes you can borrow if you want them."

She looked down at her tattered and dirt-smeared running outfit. Now that she thought about it, they were kind of skimpy for being in a hotel room with two big fake FBI guys she didn't even know. Not that she was worried or anything; it just felt weird and slightly awkward. Of course, borrowing some stranger guy's clothing while in a crappy hotel room felt a lot like an awkward one night stand. Oh, hell with it! She smiled at her ability to find humor in such weird circumstances. She wrapped her towel around herself and cracked open the door. "I'll take you up on that offer." A bundle of clothes was pushed through the gap of the door into her hands and she closed it. Hmmmm… sweat pants and a black t-shirt. Not bad.

* * *

Dean looked up when Becca walked out from the bathroom. Neither he nor Sam had left a brush in there, so her hair had a crazy wild look to it that he couldn't help but think attractive. And he couldn't ignore how great she looked wearing _his_ sweatpants and _his_ shirt.

"Here," he said. He walked over to her and handed her a can of ginger ale and a pack of six cheap, off-brand peanut butter cracker sandwiches. They were the only things in the hotel's vending machine that seemed like they'd be even remotely okay for someone with an upset stomach. There were no food places nearby where he or Sam could have quickly gone to get something better, so hopefully it was enough for the moment.

"Thanks." Becca glanced at the drink and crackers in her hand and smiled at him. It seemed as if Dean had actually put some thought and effort into picking something out for her. She sat on the corner of her bed and opened the crackers. She actually was a little hungry now that she'd calmed down.

"So this tent stake of yours, what material is it made of?" Dean asked. He pushed a thought from his mind, the thought about how she'd used his shampoo and soap and smelled like him, so he could focus on the problem at hand.

"I dunno. Iron I guess."

He glanced at Sam, who lifted his eyebrows in response. They'd tried using iron shots last night on the satyr but they had had little effect. Why was the tent stake any different? "Do you still have it?" he asked. She shook her head no.

"I must've dropped it at some point." She opened her soda as she finished the crackers. "So what now?"

"Now you go home," Dean said.

"That's it?"

"We'll kill it Becca," Sam said. "No need to worry. Just don't go back in those woods anytime soon."

* * *

Becca unlocked the front door to her apartment and Dean followed her inside. He had driven her home and wanted to check the place out, just in case.

After doing a quick walk-through, he told her everything was fine.

As he was about to leave, Becca turned to him and said "Thank you for all your help Dean. I mean it. I'd probably be dead right now if it weren't for you and Sam."

"All in a days' work," he answered, cracking a big smile and leaning smoothly against the front door frame.

"Will you let me know when it's over? I don't think I'll feel safe until I know that thing's dead."

"Sure thing. We'll probably swing by on our way out and let you know."

"Thanks." Awkward moment of silence between them. "Well, if you two need anything while you're here, you know where I am. If you come up with more questions, or if you get tired of eating food from the drive-thru and gas stations… There's this amazing pie place in Old Town. People drive from all around to try it. Or you should at least see some of the town while you're here. There's more to it than a murderous satyr."

"Becca," Dean said, in all seriousness. "You totally had me with 'pie.'"

* * *

"What else is there to do Sam?" Dean asked. He was sitting on the hotel bed, growing ever more bored while flipping through tv channels. "This thing only attacks chicks every full moon, so we've got a whole month until we see any action. We can at least have her show us this pie place!"

Sam didn't even look up from his computer. "Because, DEAN. We've never seen a satyr before and there are too many unanswered questions. What kills it? And why the association with the moon? I can't find a single scrap of information that connects satyrs with the moon cycle. Something's off, but I can't figure out what."

"Well I don't know about you, but for once, I'm getting some real food for lunch."

Sam sighed in defeat because Dean was right. He would be more effective at his research once he'd gotten some actual nutrition.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** There's some lemon or fluff or AU (or whichever one of those you consider it) in this one. Just sayin' ^_^

CHAPTER THREE

A week had passed since Becca was attacked by the satyr. All things considered, she believed she was doing quite well and life was mostly normal again. Well, except for her avoiding the woods outside her apartment like the plague. And the fact she'd hung out with Dean at least once a day.

She had a much different impression of Dean now that she'd spent some time with him and he'd opened up a little. His rough exterior and smug, egotistical personality wasn't entirely an act, but it wasn't 100% him either. He really did genuinely care about people, for example, otherwise he wouldn't devote his life to hunting things who were constantly trying to kill folks. And he definitely faced more than his fair share of pain, fear, and worry. She could see it in his eyes during those few times when his mind wandered…

Sam joined them occasionally, but he wasn't always around. Which was a shame, really, because she enjoyed his company. He was so kind-hearted and sweet, almost like an older brother, and he was BRILLIANT. She herself had gone to university and earned a bachelor's in science (it wasn't her fault the crappy economy made jobs where she could use her degree obsolete!), and she loved the crazy in-depth discussions she and Sam got into. The guy was a machine when the gears in his head started warming up.

She couldn't quite grasp what the problem was, but she had the impression that some ongoing fight or some other sort of friction was happening between the brothers. She figured it'd be best to stay out of it.

Becca looked around her kitchen for her sunglasses and keys. It was almost six pm and she and Dean were going to go eat some pie at the Purple Pie Place. He'd be showing up at her front door any minute. He was obsessed with the food joint, and she smiled to herself thinking about it. They'd gone there four times in the past week! Who knew that a guy who spent a lifetime killing gruesome monsters would have such a weakness as pie?

* * *

Dean and Becca walked up to the Purple Pie Place. It was a quaint little building nestled in the middle of Old Town, and it really was purple. The front wall of the entire building was covered in brightly-colored paint and there was a statue of a giant slice of pie sitting on the top of the roof. As far as Dean was concerned, he could (figuratively) die right this moment and be at peace. Well, he'd wait until after he'd finished his slice of pie. Then he'd die happy.

"You gonna try the cinnamon apple this time?" he asked.

"Nope," Becca answered. "I'm sticking with what I know. Mmmmmm, chocolate mousse pie." Smiling, she closed her eyes and licked her lips with relish. He laughed.

It felt so good to laugh. He never did it anymore, especially not since Dad died. Not since Dad had cursed him by whispering that god-awful secret into his ear.

Spending time with Becca was fun, and he needed it. She was silly and quirky and had a generally positive attitude about the world, even after being almost killed by a monster. She kept his mind occupied with all her crazy stories and she kept coming up with all sorts of random activities to do, like getting drunk and walking through a sculpture garden to poke fun at all the insane "modern art" or sneaking onto an empty playground and swinging on the swings.

Dean wasn't fooling himself, he knew none of this was his thing. But he liked thinking about how it maybe could've been, had he grown up with a normal family and a normal life. And there was something about the way she observed and moved through the world that attracted him. She took note of all the small things in life that should matter to people but they normally forgot or took for granted. ("You know people who complain about how awfully long their plane trips are? How do they not see what a big feat it is that they're getting from one side of the planet to the other in only a day instead of a lifetime? How do they not understand the fact that being up in the sky, moving at 500mph, is amazing?")

It was refreshing, in a way. And time spent with her was time he didn't have to spend with Sam. Being around his brother was becoming more and more difficult with what Dad had told him heavy in his thoughts. Sam was so focused on hunting monsters and was obsessing over the yellow-eyed demon, and Dean just wanted him to stop and let it all go! Not that he himself didn't want to kick that demon sucker's ass over the moon, but he didn't know how to keep Sammy from going down the wrong path. He had no clue what to do, and he was scared shitless by what Dad had said, and that he'd lose his brother, the last remaining family member he had…

Not that Becca was all happy mumbo jumbo. She wasn't some silly immature child in an adult's body. No, she had her own life problems and knew when to be serious. But she also knew how to be happy, something Dean had forgotten how to do.

* * *

Sam sat at the bar, drinking his beer while thoughts of Dad and details of this satyr case rolled around in his head. Dean was off eating pie again, no doubt. He shook his head. Why wasn't his brother being serious lately? What sort of strange coping strategy was he going through that had him shutting himself away from their cases and from Sam? They were both hurting over Dad's death. Not just Dean. Sam wished his brother would realize that.

"Hey there sugar. Want some company?" A woman had edged up next to Sam at the bar.

"No thanks," Sam replied. She had the look of an escort or something, and he wasn't interested. His mind went back to thinking about the case. He hadn't been able to figure out any of the weird inconsistencies yet.

The woman mumbled under her breath.

"Wait, what?" Sam asked. Something she'd said caught his attention.

"Nuthin. Charlotte said the tall guy was a good customer. I thought you was him, though you don't got a lot of hair." She smirked.

"Tall guy? How tall? How much hair?"

"I dunno. I haven't seen 'im. We don't give details about our clientele, them wanting privacy and all." She winked at Sam and smiled, shifting her shoulder a bit to expose the soft skin of her neck. "'Sides, the gals that been with him hardly remember anythin."

"Is that so?" Sam smiled back. Time to turn on the charm.

* * *

"Thanks for the ride Dean. I'm guessing I'll probably see you tomorrow?" Becca asked as she climbed out of the Impala.

Dean chuckled. "Yeah, probably."

"Unless you want to see me feed a black widow her dinner. Today's feeding day."

 _Damn_. That spider still creeped Dean out, and he'd spent all week doing his best to not remember the thing existed. But his stomach gurgled happily, full of nice, delicious apple cinnamon pie. What the hell.

"Yeah, why not?" he said. Becca smiled as he climbed out of the car.

Dean's phone sat forgotten on the dashboard of the Impala as they went inside.

* * *

Dean slumped on the side of the couch so the spider terrarium was at eye level. It actually was a little fascinating. Becca had carefully dropped a cricket into the cage, intending to have it land in the spider's web. She'd missed, and the cricket had fallen safely into the dirt at the bottom of the habitat. "No problem," she'd said.

Within moments, the widow had sensed the vibrations of the cricket walking around her domain. The spider had slowly crept to the bottom of her web, right to the floor of the cage, and waited patiently for the cricket to creep near enough. Then she grabbed her prey with her elongated front legs, bit the cricket, and immediately began wrapping it in silk.

Now the widow was at the top of her web, slowly heaving and lifting her food up from the cage bottom using a strand of silk that attached her to her food. Dean slowly moved his head back and forth… This spider was a damn architect, or engineer, or something! He also suppressed a shiver as a cold sensation creeped up his spine. How many times had he and Sam been the cricket? How many times had they been the spider?

Becca had been crouching on the floor next to the end table, carefully balanced on her feet while watching the spider's tactics intensely. When she felt she'd watched enough, she began to stand up from her crouching position but lost her balance and fell sideways and forward. Her arms landed on Dean's shins and her forehead bumped into his knees before she completely landed on the floor.

"Whoa!" Dean jumped and leaned forward, grabbing her by the upper arms, and pulled her and himself up into a standing position. "You okay?" He searched her face for an answer, his own showing concern.

"I- I'm good. Just super clumsy." Becca looked down as her cheeks blushed. _Idiot!_ she thought to herself. _How stupidly embarrassing!_

Without a single thought as to what he was doing, Dean gently lifted her chin and brought his lips to hers. For a split moment she didn't respond, but then she kissed back hungrily.

* * *

"Come on, Dean. Answer your phone!" Sam was back at the hotel, pacing around the room while repeatedly trying to call his brother. He had no idea where Dean was and no idea where Becca was.

Everything made sense now. The satyr _hadn't_ been choosing victims only on nights of the full moon. The three missing women disappearing on those nights was just a coincidence. In fact, the satyr had been picking a victim every few nights for _three entire months_. It was a smart strategy, really. It had generally focused its efforts on prostitutes and escorts, women who wouldn't be bothered by fuzzy memories of sexual advances from a strangely hairy and tall "man." The drug-induced haze the satyr put the victims in was probably a better experience than some of their other clients anyway.

But the three missing women weren't escorts. And they'd fought back when the satyr attacked them. And they were probably dead because of it.

"Crap, crap, crap!" Frustrated, Sam knocked his fist on his forehead. He continued pacing and redialed Dean's cell again.

Sam had discovered additional information by interviewing some of the women. Very concerning information…

The satyr was possessive of its victims. The women had described occasions when it'd been angry and had even become violent once they'd begun doing business again with other clientele. Once he'd been with a woman, they'd said, he considered them his.

Sam got Dean's voicemail yet again. "Dean, where are you?" Sam asked through gritted teeth. "The satyr's been attacking people all along, and it's probably pissed we interrupted its attack on Becca. She's in _danger_. Answer your phone!"

If Sam's assumptions were correct, then the satyr was more than pissed. It wasn't used to being denied what it wanted, and it'd probably been searching for Becca the entire week. And waiting for the just the right moment…

Sam slammed his phone down on the hotel room's table and opened his laptop. He needed to find a way to kill it, or at least figure out its weakness. No sense wasting any more time by calling Dean over and over.

* * *

Dean and Becca continued their kiss. She leaned into him, against his chest, trying to be in contact with as much of him as possible. His arms wrapped around behind her and his fingers traced her spine in ticklish circles, moving down, ever-so-slowly down until his hands rested on her bum. She moaned against his mouth and a tight knot twisted lustfully in his belly.

Dean massaged and squeezed, then lifted her up against him. She wrapped her legs tightly around his waist and pushed her hands through his hair. He broke their kiss to nibble on her ear and she gasped and shivered.

He swung Becca around so he could easily carry her through the living room to her bed, just as he'd imagined doing the first day he'd met her. Clothes quickly came off and Dean expertly balanced himself over her while she lay beneath him on the bed. His mouth never left hers as his hands explored and traced every contour of her body. The length of her neck, her soft supple breasts, the smooth skin of her stomach… his hand paused between her legs, exactly where she wanted, and he began to stroke her in tantalizing motions and patterns.

Becca gasped and threw her head back into the pillow, pulling Dean's body closer to hers and showered his neck and shoulder with desperate kisses and moans. After a few moments she couldn't take anymore. She wrapped her arms and legs around Dean and applied pressure to one side of his body. Without skipping a beat, he grabbed her and flipped them over in the direction she'd indicated, leaving Becca above him and him below.

He grasped her behind as she trailed a line of kisses down his chest, working her way further until he gasped with pleasure and was caressing her head in his hands. Dean grunted and lifted Becca up. She straddled him, looked into his eyes, and smiled as she began to teasingly move her hips above him. He responded by placing his hands on her hips and smoothly guided himself into her. He smiled when she gasped. Dean leaned up and sat with her, his arms wrapped around her back and both their legs wrapped around each other. Becca kissed him, and they both spiraled into passion together.

* * *

"I guess I should get back to the hotel and reconnect with Sam," Dean admitted regretfully. He definitely didn't want to leave. "He's probably literally giving birth to a cow."

Becca chuckled. She didn't want him to leave either, but he was probably right. She absentmindedly traced her hand lightly across his chest; they were both still lying entangled together in her bed.

Ten minutes later, Becca and Dean were dressed and stood in the apartment doorway. She stood on her tip toes and kissed him lightly on the lips. "See you tomorrow?" she asked.

He flashed her one of his confident smiles. "Of course."

Dean sighed contentedly and smiled to himself as he climbed into the Impala. He was happily distracted and didn't think to check his phone sitting on the dashboard.

Becca stood in the doorway and watched him climb into the Impala and drive away.

* * *

Dean whistled along to a classic rock song playing on the radio as he pulled into the hotel parking lot. He pulled the keys from the ignition and reached for his phone, clicking it on as he walked across the lot towards the hotel room door. His phone started beeping insistently, indicating he had a billion missed calls and voicemails.

 _Shit_ , he thought. _Sam either won the lottery or something's wrong_. He ran up to the door and pushed it open. "Sam?" he called. "What is it?"

"You didn't. No, you did, didn't you?" Sam could tell right away with just a single glance at his brother. He rested his head in his hands defeatedly. "Of course you slept with her. Just in time to piss the satyr off beyond all reason." He stood up and shoved a bag full of guns and knives into Dean's hands. Sam hoped they'd be enough to hold the creature off until he could join Dean. "Turn around! You need to get back to Becca. Now!"

"Wait, what's happening?" Dean insisted, and Sam spent a few short minutes filling him in.

"Now you need to go hold the thing off while I shop. I need to find something with elder as ingredient. I'm hoping the store will have something."

"Elder? Why elder? How'd you even figure that out?" Without waiting for an answer, Dean dialed Becca's number and put his phone to his ear.

"Satyrs used to spend all their time pursuing nymphs and dryads, so I researched the folklore on them instead. Turns out they used bits of elder tree to ward off evil and unwanted attention, including any attempts at courtship from stubborn satyrs. The plant has powerful protective properties and it's still used in witchcraft today."

Dean nodded, only half listening. Becca's phone was still ringing. She wasn't answering.

"I rummaged through Becca's junk drawer, where she'd grabbed her tent stake from, and noticed a leaking bottle of lotion that had gotten all over everything. Elder's a popular ingredient in body care and I'll bet that lotion has some in it. There was probably some on the stake when she used it to defend herself."

"Shit!" Becca's phone had finally gone to voicemail. "I only left her twenty five minutes ago!" Dean shoved his phone in his pocket and headed out the door. "Right, got it! Lotion in the junk drawer. Sam? Shop fast."


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: Aw, no reviews yet? Me be sad, very sad. Thanks for your favs and follows though! 3

 **WARNING! WARNING!** Attempted rape in this chapter. Definite trigger warning.

CHAPTER FOUR

Dean redialed Becca's number yet again. He'd been calling her nonstop as he sped hazardously across town towards her apartment. The Impala squealed as he rounded a corner too sharply and had to hit the brakes to temporarily slow down.

 _Hopefully she's just asleep or something_ , Dean thought to himself. _Yeah, right. Because lucky stuff like that happens all the time._

Minutes later, he was parking in the lot as near to her apartment as possible. He ran to her door and tried the handle. It was locked shut. ' _Cause that'd be too easy,_ he said to himself. He knocked on the door. "Becca? Becca! You in there? Open the door!"

There was a loud crash from somewhere inside. _Shit._ Dean took a step back and kicked the door but it didn't budge. _Shit, shit, shit._ He began trying to break the door down.

* * *

Becca shook her hair from her eyes and lightly touched her fingers to the corner of her forehead. She glanced at her hand and saw blood. She'd hit her head and her mind was moving so slowly… she was dazed and confused … couldn't quite understand what was happening…

After Dean left, she had decided to fix up a simple snack to eat before bed. She'd been preparing that snack, a small sandwich wrap full of veggies and hummus, in the kitchen when a door somewhere inside her apartment had slammed shut. She'd whirled around just in time to see the huge hairy body of the satyr looming over her, those dark red eyes full of fury. It had grabbed her by the arm and threw her across the room, her head slamming against the corner of the kitchen table.

Becca shook her head. She needed to move. _Now_. She stood up, keeping her eyes on the satyr standing on the other side of the kitchen, and slowly inched her way towards the counter where all her knives were. The monster glared at her but didn't move. Instead, he smiled menacingly as if he knew exactly what she was planning. He obviously wasn't worried about it in the slightest.

 _Oh God. He's right,_ she thought to herself. _There's no way I'm going to be able to fight this thing_. Nonetheless, she slowly made her way to the knife drawer, slid it open, and picked out the biggest piece of cutlery she owned. She held it out protectively and began moving slowly, ever-so-slowly, towards the doorway that led to the living room and front door.

The satyr's smile lengthened into a sharp-toothed, repugnant grin. He moved away from the doorway, giving Becca better access towards her escape route, and for several moments she didn't budge, completely stunned.

 _This friggin' psycho is toying with me!_ She thought to herself. _I'm going to die._ She tensed her muscles, preparing for the fight of her life. _But it's not getting me_ _without a fight!_

Becca sprung for the doorway and dashed into the living room just as a knocking sound came from her front door. "Becca? Becca! You in there? Open the door!" She was vaguely aware of Dean's muffled voice coming from outside, but had no time to register it. The satyr lunged after her and caught her arm, but she swung around and cut his wrist with the knife. As the creature snarled and released its grip, she lost her balance and fell into a lamp. Both she and the light fixture crashed to the floor.

The satyr laughed, a deep sound rumbling in its chest, as it approached her. He grabbed her by the shoulder and lifted her from the carpet, pushing himself against her and pinning her to the wall. The knife fell from her grasp and she struggled to keep her face away from his other hand, which he was trying to press against her mouth. _No, No, No!_ she screamed to herself. _I'll be damned if he uses that friggin' love drug crap on me again!_

As Becca struggled, she swept her hand around, desperately searching for anything she could grab and use as a weapon. Her fingers closed around a tv remote, which she smashed into the side of the monster's head. Momentarily distracted, the satyr loosened his grip on her. She slipped down the wall, squeezed past his vile hairy legs, and retrieved her knife.

She dashed for the front door, but something hard hit her in the back and she fell to the floor. The damn brute had thrown something at her! She rolled over onto her back to face him.

She heard shattering glass coming from somewhere else in the apartment. Surprised, both she and the satyr glanced towards the direction of the sound. They each recovered quickly, however. The creature bent towards her and she stabbed it in the foot. It roared in frustration and continued his attack, but then it stumbled backwards as a loud exploding sound filled the room.

* * *

Dean had decided he was wasting too much time trying to break the door down, so he'd found a window instead. He'd pulled out his gun and had arrived in Becca's living room just as she stabbed the hairy creep in the foot from her position on the floor. He fired a shot at the monster's stomach, sending it reeling in pain across the room. Keeping an eye on it as it tore and scratched at the wound in its belly, Dean rushed to Becca's side, pulling her to her feet.

She was a complete mess. She wasn't standing straight and he had to support her against himself. There was a bleeding gash on her forehead, though most of the wound looked crusted over with dry blood. _Good,_ Dean thought. _Not imminently life-threatening._ She had bruises but nothing was broken, and she seemed very aware of her surroundings, meaning the son-of-a-bitch hadn't drugged her.

"Becca? Listen to me. You have a bottle of lotion or something in a junk drawer somewhere. The tent stake spot. I need you to find it. ASAP!"

Dean kept an eye on the satyr. It hadn't been seriously hurt, just surprised. It was recovering quickly and would attack them again in a moment.

Becca looked at Dean, her eyes wild and terrified. Her face showed the same crazed expression any living thing had while fighting desperately for life: frantic determination, feral ferocity, and pure, unadulterated fear. For a split second, a lump formed in the back of Dean's throat and he tightened his arm's grip around her supportively. A person like Becca should never, _ever_ have to experience something like this. It was _his_ job to keep these things from happening, and he'd failed. Her life would never be the same.

The satyr began advancing towards them. Dean raised his gun and shouted, "Becca! Lotion! This gun won't kill it!" She disappeared into the kitchen as Dean aimed for the chest and shot the creature again. However, with the element of surprise gone, Dean's gun had little effect this time. _New plan: stall as long as possible and hope Sam arrives before this guy turns me into a chew toy._

"So what's your problem?" Dean hissed mockingly. He carefully shifted himself so he was positioned between the beast and the kitchen. "Little lonely monster can't impress the ladies, so he attacks them instead? Real classy dude. Surefire way to win them over."

The satyr growled and clenched its fists while pacing back and forth. It was sizing up its enemy and determining its next move.

"What? I didn't catch that. Can't you talk, or are you too dumb?"

With lightning speed, the creature launched itself at Dean and threw him across the room. In a split second it was next to Dean again and, holding him against the wall, brought its face close to Dean's. Dean scrunched his nose as the satyr's putrid warm breath blew across his skin. "Dude, no wonder the ladies despise you. Have you ever heard of breath mints?" He struggled but couldn't move. This monster was _strong_. All he could do was carefully move his hand towards the side of his leg, where he had a knife stashed in a concealed pocket.

The hairy beast stared at Dean for a few moments, glaring at him with those ugly red eyes. Then it leaned close with a smile and whispered in Dean's ear. "She's going to watch me kill you. Then I'll make her wish she was never born." Dean suppressed a shiver as the moist foul breath brushed past his ear. The thing's voice was deep and gravelly and made his head almost physically ache. So close to the knife… just a little bit further… "There's nothing you can do to save her," the satyr hissed. "She's _mine_ , and I'm gonna make her squirm."

The rage Dean felt in that moment was enough to make him _almost_ lose control. His fingers gripped around the handle of his knife and he yelled angrily as he thrust it into the creature's side, pushing the nasty satyr's body away from himself at the same time.

Becca was standing there waiting. "I don't belong to anyone, you chauvinistic douchebag!" She shoved her own knife deep into the satyr's back, and it howled in desperate pain. The smell of scorched flesh filled the air and the skin around the blade sizzled and cracked.

Dean glanced in surprise at Becca, who was holding an empty bottle of hand and foot cream. He had been so focused on holding the satyr off that he hadn't noticed her come in. Fortunately, neither had the satyr.

* * *

Becca stood triumphantly over the struggling monster. She'd liberally covered the blade of her knife with the beauty cream from her junk drawer, and now the satyr was lying on the floor, clearly struggling.

"Here, give me the bottle," Dean requested. She handed the nearly-empty container to him, and he scooped out as much of the remaining lotion as possible.

They both jumped as a loud pounding came from the front door.

"That'll be Sam," Dean grunted as he stooped down and plucked his knife from the satyr's side. The monster snarled and lashed out weakly, but Dean easily avoided the attack.

Nodding, Becca shuffled to the door and let Sam inside. "Where is it?" he asked. He was carrying a long machete smothered with what looked like oil. It smelled like a health and beauty store.

She nodded her head towards Dean and slumped against the wall. _It's over,_ she thought to herself. _It's over._ With all the adrenaline slowly leaving her veins, Becca found herself overwhelmingly tired. Her muscles were weak, her bruises ached, and the gash on her forehead was starting to throb.

Sam's eyebrows furrowed in deep concern. "You okay?" He placed his hand reassuringly on her shoulder. All Becca could do was slowly shake her head up and down. Sam squeezed her arm and joined Dean in the living room. They mumbled something to one another, then Becca closed her eyes as Sam raised the machete in the air.

Whack. Whack. Whack.

Three quick strokes to the neck and the satyr was dead.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

After killing the satyr, the brothers had stealthily removed the body from her apartment under cover of darkness. Becca hoped they were as good as they were confident. She didn't want the real FBI knocking on her door at some point because a neighbor saw two strange men carrying a dead bloody body out of her place. She didn't know where they'd taken it or what they were doing with it and she didn't care.

Both Sam and Dean had wanted to stay with her for a while, to make sure she was okay, but she'd insisted they leave and go back to their hotel. She desperately needed some time alone, and they'd unwillingly left about an hour ago.

Now Becca was sitting on her living room floor with a carpet steam cleaner on her right and a bucket full of soapy carpet shampoo water on her left. Overwhelmed, she let her eyes wander over the current state of the room. There were shattered bits and pieces of the lamp all over the floor and the couch was a graveyard of the remains from the tv remote. There were a few holes and dents in the drywall. Through the doorway she could see the kitchen table pushed up against the counter, the chairs knocked out of the way, and two of her cooking knives sat in the sink, covered in blood. And though she couldn't see it, she could imagine how trashed her bedroom was, covered with hundreds of shards of glass from the window Dean had used as a door to get into her apartment.

Becca clutched the scrubbing sponge from the bucket and wrung it out. She put it to the bloody stains in the carpet, the spot where Sam and Dean had killed the satyr, and stared at it for a moment. Then she broke down and cried.

The following morning, the brothers were packing their things. Sam was carefully tucking his laptop into its case while Dean unceremoniously shoved clothing into a duffel bag. Neither spoke. What was there to talk about?

The events of last night had sucked, hard core. Dean didn't even get five minutes of sleep because he'd spent all night blaming himself and wondering about whether Becca was okay. He'd been trying to deny it all week, but the truth was, he cared about her. He'd gotten to know her, and she him, and together they'd shared laughter and stress and secrets. She'd connected with him in a way that none of the other women he usually met did. Of course, most of the time he purposefully kept his distance, but for some reason, it hadn't ended up that way with Becca.

There was a knock at the door. Sam opened it, and both the brothers were relieved to see Becca.

"Um, hi," she said awkwardly. She was holding a large purple box in her hands. She looked incredibly tired, and the gash on her forehead was still visible, even though she had clearly styled her hair in an attempt to cover it.

"It's good to see you." Sam wrapped her in a hug and they both held the embrace for several moments. Dean could've sworn he heard a small sniffle or two, but when Sam moved aside and Becca stepped through the doorway, she looked fine.

"I guess this is the part where you leave? You're off to kick evil's ass and save more people who have no idea there are monsters hiding under their bed?" She smiled and walked towards Dean, holding out the purple box. "Here. Pie for the road. Six slices of different types... Should last you til this afternoon."

"Ha ha, very funny," Dean said, feigning hurt feelings. As she passed the box into his hands, their eyes met and he could see everything she felt, every emotion rolling around in her head about the satyr, about how her life was changed, about him. He hoped she could see everything he was feeling through his eyes, too.

Thirty minutes later, Sam and Dean climbed into the Impala. "We can stay a few days," Sam suggested as he pulled his passenger's side door closed.

Dean adjusted the rearview mirror and the reflection of Becca standing on the sidewalk next to the hotel room appeared. "No," he said. "We can't."

Becca waved goodbye as the Winchester brothers drove down the street and out of sight.

.

 **Author's Note:** This may be the end of the "episode," but not the end of the story! Becca's adventure into the world of Supernatural continues…


End file.
